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It wasn't planned. Connor was just in a mood.

It's a slow day, not many new cases coming in since Detroit had been evacuated and is yet to be repopulated. Nines is in the archive room- the old one, shelves of boxes full of paper lining it, obsolete now that everything was on computers- scanning and uploading file after file in the room, digitizing everything so nobody has to come in here anymore.

Connor, on the other hand... Connor is bored. The deviancy case is, obviously, closed. Crime rates have plummeted, and reports that come in are given to low ranking officers. Hank is finishing up some paperwork from a recent case.

"I'm going to see if Nines wants any help," Connor tells him, rising from his desk. Hank grunts out a response, not even looking up from his terminal. Connor accepts it as a cue to leave.

Connor makes sure the door to the archive room is shut behind him, hacking it to lock it as well. Nines comes around a shelf when he hears it.

"Connor, what are you-" he's cut off by Connor wrapping his arms around his neck and pressing their lips together in a heated kiss. Nines sets his hands on Connor's hips and pushes him back slightly. "Connor."

"Hm," is all Connor gives him, now walking Nines back until he falls into the chair he'd brought with him. Connor's in Nines' lap in an instant, biting and sucking at Nines' lips, rolling his hips against Nines'. Connor is already hard, and Nines is right behind him.

Connor's calling the shots, and Nines is content to let him. For now.

He lets Connor kiss down his neck, lets Connor undo his shirt, lets Connor stand to shimmy out of his pants and remove his tie, lets Connor undo Nines' belt and fly before climbing back into his lap. Nines reaches around, pressing two fingers against Connor's hole. He's already wet, ready to take Nines' cock, but Nines isn't ready to let him yet. He slides his fingers in, and Connor moans.

"Don't need them, I'm ready," Connor says, trying to both push back on and pull off of Nines' fingers.

"I know." He pushes a third finger in. Connor scratches at his wrist, trying to pull them out so he can get Nines’ cock in him already. Nines finds Connor’s bioprostate on the first try, rubbing at it relentlessly. Connor whimpers and moans, squirming on his lap, so full, so good, need more, Nines, please. Nines doesn’t let up, fucking Connor with his fingers until Connor is a crying mess, teetering on the edge. It’s only when Connor warns Nines that he’s going to come that Nines removes his fingers.

“No, no, no, Nines, please, I’m so close, please, please, ” Connor babbles, grinding down onto nothing.

“Quiet, Connor,” Nines instructs, and Connor does his best to quiet down. “As much confidence as I have in your ability to come twice and my ability to make you, this is neither the time nor the place.” Connor chokes on another sob as Nines squeezes the base of his dick, staving off his impending orgasm further.

“Besides,” Nines continues, “you will come on my cock, and only my cock.”

“Please.”

Nines lifts Connor up, quickly lining up his cock and slamming Connor down in one movement. With Connor settled, squirming in his lap, Nines lets go of Connor’s hips.

“Nines?” No response. “Nines.” Connor grabs Nines’ face, looking around him to make sure nothing’s wrong. “Nines, c’mon, fuck me.”

Nines stares at him. “You interrupted my work. If you want to come, you’ll have to do the work yourself.”

Connor whines again, but sets to work anyway. He plants his feet, gripping Nines’ shoulders, and rides Nines like his life depends on it. He starts out by moving up and down, but it’s too slow, it’s not enough, it’s not working. He makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat, wraps his arms around Nines, rolls his hips instead, and fuck, that’s it.

Connor keeps going, wiggling a little between rolls to find the right spot, and then he’s grinding his bioprostate directly on Nines’ dick

“Fuck, Nines, so good, need more, need more, please, touch me, touch me, please,” Connor begs. When Nines doesn’t react beyond the blissed out look on his face, Connor tries to take matters into his own hands. Without stopping, he reaches one hand down towards his cock.

Nines stops him immediately, grabbing his wrist. Connor tries to yank his hand free and succeeds, but only for a moment before Nines pushes Connor’s jacket down his arms, trapping them behind his back.

“You will come on my cock,” he growls. “Keep moving.”

Connor does, struggling to keep his balance without use of his arms. Nines rips open Connor’s shirt, buttons scattering across the archive room floor, and Connor nearly falls when teeth latch onto his nipple. Nines’ nails dig into Connor’s waist, taking control. Nines hips jerk up into Connor, and Connor falls forward. It’s so much, too much, not enough, but Nines is finally fucking up into him and it’s everything Connor wants. Nines has him on the perfect angle, driving into his bioprostate over and over.

“Nines, Nines, please, I can’t, I can’t-”

“You can, and you will.”

Connor’s full-on crying now, tears soaking into Nines’ shirt, and he pushes back to meet Nines’ every thrust. His stomach is tight, orgasm curling but never releasing, not enough stimulation, too much stimulation, it’s starting to hurt, he’s never gonna come, oh fuck, Nines!

Nines yanks Connor by the hair, bringing him upright, and bites down in the crook of Connor’s neck, and Connor comes, body spasming in Nines’ lap. Connor’s ass is a vice, squeezing the life out of Nines’ cock, and Nines comes too, filling Connor to the brim.

Nines collapses back in the chair, Connor catching his breath against his chest.

They sit there for several minutes, cooling down, their breathing the only sound in the room. Connor’s nearly asleep when the sound of the door unlocking startles him awake.

He shoots upright in Nines’ lap, Nines fixing Connor’s jacket and holding Connor steady with both hands on his ass.

“Hey, guys, I found some old reports in my desk, figured you might-” Hank freezes when looks up, taking in the sight. Connor and Nines are an absolute mess. Connor’s pants are on the floor, buttons are everywhere, fluids covering both. “I can uh, bring this back later?”

“That would be advisable, yes,” Connor says, as though he doesn’t look completely fucked out.

“Right. Right, okay. Later.” Hank turns to leave again, face bright red.

“Oh, and Lieutenant?” Nines stops him before he can go.

“Yeah?”

“Would you mind bringing us our spare clothes from our lockers? Ours are rather… unpresentable.”